Final Darkness
by lostloveloki
Summary: Tony's gone. What does Loki do now?


Loki looked down from the railings of the rusty, old bridge. The water rippled gently and serenely below him, unperturbed by the cracking universe it resided in. I was quite possible that it was part of the sporadic beauties that still remained in this dying realm. Time had been unkind to this crumbling world, but time hadn't been the sole offender that had caused its destruction. Mankind had caused a brunt of the damage.

Time was both a friend and a foe for the pale man, whose skin had grown ashen and dulled over the centuries, apathy displaying its niche on his features. Born in Jotunheim, raised in the relatively happy household that was the Asgardian royal family, betrayed and cast out by them, according to the twisted recesses of his mind. He was raised from the ashes as a vicious merciless phoenix, only to be tamed by an even more destructive force, a self-destructive force: Anthony Stark.

The two had their differences, there was no doubt about that, especially as one tried to control the world and the other tried to save it, but these differences couldn't keep them apart. Just like polar opposite magnets, the attraction was inevitable and instant. And yet, they weren't truly polar opposites.

Loki's lips softly curled up as he remembered Tony's taunting grin, that childish egotism, that…elusive quality which he'd always cherished in the now dead man. Yes, Loki had truly loved him, he'd let him into his heart, a place where he'd stopped anyone and everyone from accessing since he'd learnt of his true heritage. He'd let Tony in, as Tony had saved him from his destructive self-loathing which had threatened to rip the realms apart. Tony had been his drunken angel of benevolence.

Tony wasn't the only thing that died that day in the hospital. Loki's will had died with him. Loki, who had remained in Midgard for the remainder of Tony's life, in a self-appointed exile, found that the nine realms were empty and hollow. As the stars kept burning, and the worlds kept turning, time had stopped for him, and it refused to restart again. There was nothing, and there would forever only be nothing for Loki, and so he developed his very last scheme.

He returned to Asgard at long last, to face those he'd betrayed, and those who'd betrayed him, finally prepared to receive his punishment. But his willingness to accept a punishment peaceful came with a hitch. A little hitch which the Allfather had to pay out at the end of the sentence. The Allfather, dearly loved Loki despite all of his transgressions, for he was his son no matter whether he was his child by blood or not. Thus, he shed a silent tear as he gave Loki his word, both as king and ruler of the nine realms. Loki wore his unshakable mask and mutely accepted his imprisonment. Imprisonment did not matter to him, it was merely more time for him to think and remember.

A millennium had passed before Loki finally regained his freedom, but there was no joy or solace in this freedom, just as there was none in his imprisonment. It only meant the beginning of the next part of his scheme.

As he was released, Loki's demand was met by the Allfather, before the fallen prince was finally returned to Midgard.

Much had changed in this world, much pain had been endured, great destruction had occurred, but despite the new age of technology and travel, one thing that always endured was mankind's deep nostalgia which ran through their blood through generations upon generations. The old structures, bridges, ships and trains, were all kept intact, so that the current generation would know how men lived in the past. To see what the world was like, when greed reigned supreme and capitalism was God. Through the bustling new world, filled with death in all corners, it fit perfectly, that a solitary, thin, man was taking a stroll along the ancient bridge of New York.

Loki reached into his pocket, and took out the shining blue object that had once been a beacon of hope for mankind, and had proven to him so often that men of Midgard do indeed have hearts. He marvelled at it, for having continued for so long despite the extensive time it had endured apart from its maker. Inhaling deeply he held it tightly in his hand. He looked down at the water again as he climbed onto the ledge shakily. It didn't have the same blue beauty as Stark's heart, but it would do. He would rest in this seabed for the rest of eternity.

The mortal man spread his arms as he fell forward into the final darkness.


End file.
